He Dreams of Red, Blue, and Gold
by thanatopis
Summary: Without any memories of the past, Loki tries to figure out what his mind is so desperate to keep secret. Meanwhile, Thor, back in Asgard, searches for his brother after he is successful in destroying Jotunheim. AU
1. Chapter 1

He feels like weeping, as silly as it sounds. His thoughts confuse him more than anything does. They remind him of a beach tide, right when he thinks he's a step closer to figuring what he has forgotten, the memories recede back into his mind.

He feels like he's trying to solve one of those difficult puzzles, built to test patience and endurance. The thoughts that plague his mind are like those puzzles. Vague, scattered everywhere, all the pieces holding a little secret, carrying the overall bigger picture.

Red, blue, and gold...

Those colors stand out almost overwhelmingly to him. This…_thing_-whatever it is, is on the tip of his minds tongue. He has never felt so frustrated, so desperate to want to know something, to have all the puzzle pieces align…

But like all puzzles, there's grooves and curves that throw you off, that are meant to be tricky and calculating, this puzzle demands patience. Sorry, he thinks, I have none.

* * *

><p>"Father!" Thor calls, his voice reverberates off the golden walls of the throne room, as well as the whole palace.<p>

As he walks in his eyes meet his father's companionless one with all the upstanding anger he can without faltering to his father's feet. "What you have done father…" Thor paces slightly at the edge of Odin's throne, his eyes bore into the ground beneath his feet almost as if the look he gives it alone will make it combust.

He swings Mjolnir in his hand as he occasionally looks at his father with scorn. "How could you! " Thor's voice holds an air of confidence as he reigns down on Odin, but even he, the mighty Thor, cannot contain the shakiness of his next verbal assault.

"How could you have sent him to Midgard! Alone and venerable without the aid of his magic," Thor's knees start to shake, "Without the aid of his very self! How could you abolish Loki's memories of Asgard, of his life, as if they were the pieces of your robes that you had no more use for! Gone father! All of it! What you have done is unforgivable!" He spits unforgivable out more venomously than the rest, and it leaves an unfamiliar taste in his mouth.

Odin does not strike back like Thor so obviously thought he would. Everything is completely quite, save for Thor's heavy breathing, and he looks at his father waiting for him to do something-anything except sit on that stupid throne with an emotion in his one eye Thor can't pin point. He refuses to recognize it as sorrow.

"What was unforgivable Thor, was the mass genocide committed against Jotunheim that your brother constructed, planned, and carried out." He stops, letting the words sink in for both Thor and himself. Thor shifts slightly, and averts his gaze back on the ground, uncomfortable talking at all, about what he failed to save that day.

"Loki's atrocity of an act could have been met with death Thor." Odin trails off again, his voice barely shakes as he says, "After all he has done, he deserved that much." Thor has to look away as his father shows, to which he is not used to, tremors of despair. "Father…"

"No Thor! You foolish boy, this is not something of your mother's that he accidentally broke! A world and its people are gone because of your brother's actions. He has to pay for what he has done!"

"He did it for you!"

This makes Odin's only eye widen as he visibly stills. "He did it all for you! To prove himself, he said, to be a worthy son!" Thor snickers at this, what was the meaning of a 'worthy son' to his father anyway.

"Loki is profoundly misguided, not evil, like everyone in these palace walls seems to think! Why would you increase the confusion within him by erasing what is rightfully his?" Odin looks back at Thor unwaveringly, and Thor has to take a step back. "Did you even ever love Loki?" He asks appalled, because he cannot tell. What father would just throw away his son after such an obvious cry for help?

"Loki is my son. By blood or not, he is my son."

"Then, you must know what I would do for my brother."

Odin nods, slowly and solemnly.

"He can never set foot in these halls again, Thor. If he did there would always be unrest, lines of people eternally plotting his demise, maybe even down the line, his children's…" Thor shivers at the thought.

"He does not have to set a foot in Asgard father, I will go to him. I will find him."

"Yes Thor, eventually you will, you will find Loki. Nevertheless, when you do he will have no memories of you, of Asgard. What will you do then, my son?" Thor grimaces, he doesn't like being called that anymore.

"For it does not matter. I will forge new ones."

* * *

><p>AN: So, I saw Thor about 2 months ago because of a friend, and let's just say it was completly better than what I was expecting. I ended up both loving Thor and Loki, there's just something so alluring to me about their relationship, I loved watching it play out in the movies and fanfiction. I believe I've read just about everything from this fandom. But I had no idea I would be writing this, I have an idea of where it's going but then I dont :) I know this chapter is really short, but its sorta like a teaser to get you guys all hooked in. I hoped you liked it. Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

It takes two years for Thor to find Loki, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of his brother's existence. When he does, he finds him urban city named, _Chicago_. Through Heimdall he sees Loki for the first time in what feels like forever and a day.

Loki is no longer Loki.

He feels too many things at once as he watches in rapt fascination, the person who has his brother's face but not his aura. The man he sees walks down a highly populated street that is crowded with bizarre contraptions that Thor has never seen, that blare and purr like a dangerous feline. It's filled with mortal men, woman, and children who pass by one another without actually really looking, despite the shear amount that populate the place.

Loki's hair no longer is slick back and straight, the black tresses are slightly curly as they hang in front of his face, and coil around his ears.

Thor thinks in the back of his mind that Loki would have never permitted such unruly hair, as many times as he had scolded him about it. Strangely, it highly confuses and unsettles him.

Loki's eyes were that of the same color; the color of envy that Thor had missed on him, even if the gaze was critical or devious. Loki's skin was still the same appeasing pale that fitted him rightly so, Thor ached to grab and touch after not being able for so long.

He almost tells Heimdall to send him to Midgard, to this city of _Chicago_ that holds his brother, but something stops him immediately from uttering the words.

His brother gives the most dazzling smile he has ever seen. White, perfect teeth shine in radiance as his eyes crinkle in delight, and it takes Thor's breath away.

It is a smile that he has not seen on his brother in a long while; the ones he would usually give would have hidden double meanings, laced with mockery and contempt, regularly directed at him.

Thor astonished, is abruptly tossed out of his inner workings as he watches Loki open his arms for a man that has a little cocky gleam in his maroon eyes as he embraces Loki. One of his arms wraps around Loki's waist while the other around his shoulders, the man is shorter then Loki, so his face fits easily into the crook of his neck.

Who is this mortal to issue such a response from Loki?

Thor feels his fingers clench into fists and his eyes narrow at the brown hair brown eyed mortal as he and Loki walk side-by-side talking about something that every once in a while, makes Loki smile.

Thor instantaneously realizes, with both shock and loathing, that he does not like this man.

* * *

><p>It's a very bright sunny day as he walks through the thrum of people. Loki frowns, regretting not bringing his sunglasses, the sun hurts his eyes probably more than it probably should. Squinting up at the sky, he sees there is not a cloud in sight. He laughs easily thinking, just my luck.<p>

He had learned over time that he has none of it.

Loki watches as people pass by him, men and woman his age and older with their cellphones attached to their ears, and as they pass by, he hears snippets of conversations. To co-workers and bosses, to friends and family, to husbands and wives, all of it, and somehow it annoys him.

Suddenly Loki feels he is being watched. His eyes dart calmly, to both his left and right, but sees no one's eyes on him. It's odd feeling, he is used to being the observer, not the observed.

He shakes it off as he sees Tony, strutting in a light blue suit with sneakers that give the look an air of casualness that Loki is sure only this man can pull off. Tony acts as if he owns the very sidewalk his feet are on, Loki chuckles thinking off handedly, with all the money he has he probably could.

"Stark, looking very springy if I may add. You look like a little bunny rabbit with that pep in your step." Tony snorts, hugging him, while patting him a little too hard on the back.

"Ha ha very funny. Least I dress for the seasons, instead of shrouding myself in black and green. Please do tell me you have other colors in your wardrobe besides those two."

Loki grabs his green scarf in question and gives it a little smile. "There nice colors."

"Yeah, maybe for a school mascot." Loki's brows furrow in confusion. "Mascot?"

Tony's brown eyes widen and look at him with surprise before understanding seems to cast over. He shakes his head back and forth. "Sorry man, I keep forgetting sometimes about your accident." Loki nods.

He hates what he can remember after the accident. Authorities had told him they had found him alone in some desert in New Mexico, half-delirious, and that's the farthest back he can remember. It's beyond frustrating.

"A mascot is something that represents a school, usually they're like, I don't know, some sort of animal, they have their own colors…" As if sensing Loki's innermost turmoil Tony drops it, "Really they don't even matter. It's kinda stupid when you think about it. I mean really, who likes high school football?"

As they walk, Loki notices that the sky has gotten a lot darker than it was a couple of minutes ago. He looks up, not having to worry about the sun as it is completely blocked out. Gray clouds envelop the city like a blanket as tiny bolts of lightning tease its presences towards the ground.

It is quite possibly the most bewitching thing he has ever seen. He has always thought of thunderstorms as alluring things of nature.

"Holy shit, so much for a nice stroll through the park." They take shelter in a nearby convince store as they watch other people scatter and dwindle until there is barely anyone on the streets. It's a unusual sight to see a 12:30 in the afternoon.

The first strike of lightning flashes and it's bright and brilliant, the thunder comes seconds later, rolling in and it doesn't disappoint. It vibrates through his chest as well as the store, as cans rattle off one another. Then the rain pours, and does it pour, creating a chorus of water droplets simultaneously hitting the concrete.

Loki regards it with solemn eyes, not knowing why all of a sudden he feels a wistful feeling. He wants to go out, touch it, feel it on his skin, but he can't, the rest of the world wouldn't understand if he were to do so.

Rain and thunder were seen as something of bad luck, and for reasons Loki could not fathom, he wondered why.


	3. Chapter 3

When Thor falls back to Midgard a feeling of old, familiarity washes over him. He looks around at the big, vast, and overwhelming landscape that is dry, humid, and hot, and almost expects to be met head on by one of Midgard's metal contraptions. Nevertheless, when he looks over his shoulder he finds no such thing.

Thor subtlety reminds himself that this is not the past. He is a boy no longer, cased out for his careless behavior. He is here on Midgard with his own terms and his own duty, to find his brother, and bring him to some sort of home even if it is not Asgard.

He looks around, surveying the land for any sign of life that he can follow, everything is pitch black except for the constellations and asterisms that hang over head and burn bright. His wish is answered as he sees little bundle of lights that look familiar in this unforgiving desert. With the shake of his head, he gives a little laugh as he makes way towards town.

…

Thor is eager to enlist the help of Jane on his search to find his brother. He is still inexperienced when it comes to the ways of Midgardian technology and transportation, and hopes that she will guide him on the right path to locate his brother. Among other things, he has missed her and her love of science that borderlines sometimes on obsession, though, finds her devotion inspiring and hopes that he can take a page from her book and copy it onto himself.

Thor finds Jane exactly where he envisioned she would be.

Jane paces back and forth in front of her big sky board, she has her teeth lightly worrying the pad of her thumb, and Thor looks on with a fond smile.

"You should stop while you can, you don't want it to bleed."

The gasp that wrings out of her throat, along with the bewildered look that she gives him makes his smile grow more as he watches her with sympathetic eyes. She stubbles back into the board abruptly, almost tilting it over.

"I am sorry; I did not mean to frighten you." Still not able to talk, Jane shakes her head back and forth in tandem, as her eyes look him over still not believing that the god of thunder is actually in her presences.

"I-I never thought I would see you again. I thought that the thing that connected your world with mine was broken."

Thor nods slowly, "It was, the Bifrost, I had to destroy it to save-" He stops suddenly, knowing that he did not save _anything_ that day. He shakes slightly, mentally trying to catch himself from falling back into memories that are still raw and piercing, of him and his brother hanging off the Bifrost by the fibers of a thin shred. The last look Loki gives their father before he unfastens himself, awaiting death along with the tragic and grim Jontar, will haunt Thor for the rest of his days he is positively sure, the look of utter helplessness, the look of a young boy pleading, begging for guidance and comfort. Thor doesn't even acknowledge that his brother didn't even spare him a second glance before he let go.

"There are other well hidden pathways in Asgard that manage the fragile links between the nine worlds. Not all the pathways are as transparent and reliant as the Bifrost, but I maneuvered it sufficiently." After a moment he adds, "I had some past help."

Jane nods her head slowly as she gradually settles herself to the floor in shock and awe. "Wow, there's nine? You never mentioned that before." Thor, with concern written all over his features, goes to immediately right her up. "I am very sorry, please forgive me. I do not mean to bombard you with all this information-," Jane laughs loudly as she puts her hand out to stop him.

"I'm perfectly fine Thor; its just-it almost seemed that for the little time that you were here, it was all just a dream. To see you back here, red cape and all, is breathtaking." She smiles up at him, her doe eyes sparkling, and it reminds Thor of why he liked the human race so much.

* * *

><p>Loki awakes with a start as he springs from his bed. The sensation of falling is still there as he clutches his head in nausea. Holy shit-<p>

He groans loudly in annoyance as he makes way towards the bathroom with sluggish movements, as if his body is physically protesting that he not get out of bed. This blasted city, he thinks.

Between the ruckus of cars twenty-four-seven, Tony being his roommate, and the fact that he has the worst case of insomnia in the world, he hasn't had a good night sleep without the help of drugs in-shit, he can't even remember. Loki dry heaves above the toilet a couple of times as his spit, thin and clear, drains into the bowl.

He is surprised; he has not felt this sort of nausea since the hospital first released him. In the beginning, the nausea was an everyday occurrence, the feeling so severe as he would clutch the toilet boil until morning as if he would drown without it. Loki hovers over it a little longer, just to make sure he isn't going to spill what little he had for dinner and leaves the bathroom only to make way towards the kitchen.

Of course, Tony is there, in a pair of black sweat pants and tank top; body stretched out lazily on his all too expensive sofa. "Couldn't sleep could we?"

Loki almost groans at how _awake_ Tony sounds, that little cocky pitch ever present in his voice never ceases to disappear. He's too tired to give his own little snarky remark, so instead he glares halfhearted at the scruffy couch potato.

Tony just smirks, eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary before he rolls his eyes in mock hurt. Loki has to bite his lip to repress a smirk of his own as he opens the refrigerator door searching for anything that will take the current taste out of his mouth. He grabs a quart of orange juice, unscrewing the cap and lilting the cold plastic to his lips, getting the relief he so desperately needs.

"Ew, now I have to go get another one, it has your yucky germs all over it." Loki laughs, the noise muffled as he empties the quart. When he is finished, he emits a loud satisfied burp and looks at the quart of orange juice in consideration, shaking it, only to hear an echo of what was once there.

"Did you honestly just drink that whole thing? Really? Hope you like the color orange, because after that you're so turning it-well wait, when you think about it orange juice really isn't orange it's yellow-so let me rephrase that-yellow, hope you like the color yellow."

Loki snorts. "You just said you would have to buy another one, remember, yucky germs." He sticks his hands out in a teasing way, wiggling his fingers as if they hold a horrible disease. Tony pouts, tilting his head to the side, and Loki notices he does this when he is trying to think of something especially witty to say.

"I did say that didn't I?"

Loki laughs tiredly, "Yep, you did." He makes his way over to the couch and Tony arranges his feet to accompany Loki. He all but collapses when he sits down, letting the material conform to his body, surprisingly, leather is comfortable.

"It's gotten worse hasn't it?" Tony hesitantly says, and by how he looks at him, with empathy and melancholy, Loki suspects he already knows the answer.

"Yeah, though I don't know why? I've been taking my pills regularly. Don't know why it decided to act up today…" Loki trails off in thought and it is quiet. It is a comfortable quiet and Loki thinks that maybe he could sleep like this, but when he tilts his head back and closes his eyes the nausea comes right back-along with something else…

A yell, something yelling…

He jumps, "Did you hear that?" Tony jumps also, but not from a yell, Loki realizes, from him. Tony looks at him incredulous, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he looks around in his apartment in puzzlement. "Hear what?"

"A yell, something was just yelling, I swear." He gets up from the couch, stalking around the apartment searching for anything that could have made that sound. He glances back at Tony, about to demand that he help him, but what he sees staring back angers him. "Tony Stark, don't you dare look at me like that! I am not some crazy lunatic."

Tony burst out laughing as he rises from the couch, "Well can you blame me? I mean, what am I supposed to suspect when you say you hear a yell-50 stories above ground, car horns barely echo up here."

Loki crosses his arms over his chest defensively, "So what are you trying to say?"

Tony just smiles, making his way over to his liquor stash to pour himself a brandy. "Maybe I'm just trying to say that your ears mistakenly heard something. You haven't been getting enough sleep, it's a legit reason."

Loki has to repress the urge to roll his eyes at the irony there. "Maybe you just have bad hearing."

Tony shrugs his shoulders as if it is a possibility. "Maybe."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the delayed update! I just have school and then other fics to worry about. I wanted to say thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and alerted, it means a lot to know people like this story. For those wondering when Thor and Loki will meet it will be in a range of 2 to 3 chapters, fyi. Please Review!


	4. Chapter 4

I'm very sorry for the super late update. I just have been super busy, dealing with school and then other fics. Hope you guys like this chapter! Please R&R.

* * *

><p>Everlasting and lengthy it seems is the scenery set out before them. Thor travels with Jane in the Midgardian apparatus that he has newly learned has a name, <em>car<em>. An odd word he had vaguely pondered.

The long, black, stretched out path takes them in between valleys of mountains, through canyons of blood red, and it only seems to emphasize to Thor how far away his brother really is from him. The realization makes his heart ache with such longing that it astounds him. _Brother…_

"Thor—are you alright?" He chastises himself internally as he puts on a big, worry free smile he hopes will make her vexation ease.

"Oh yes—I was just lost in the strange beauty of this world. You truly do not understand how granted you are." He means it to some extent. Midgard is no Asgard, but in comparison, it carries its own to the golden realm.

Jane gives him a look that highly reminds him of Sif and he has to repress a laugh at the similarity. She snorts loudly, disbelieving, as she says, "Oh please—from what I've heard about Asgard, Earth must be a slum compared to the golden city in the sky."

Thor shakes his head. "No, Midgard has a special beauty, a land with such different people, different climates, it is as if Midgard is one world with multiple in itself. Truly fascinating it is." Jane stares at him with mild curiosity, he can see in her eyes interest peeking for his knowledge, for the universes. In the past, he gingerly remembers explaining to her that if she took him to the compound that held Mjolnir captive, he would tell her everything her eager, beautiful mind wished to know.

"I have to ask," Thor is not surprised. "Thor, why is Loki on Earth? And why are you searching for him?" He immediately stiffens. This is not what he had been expecting. Out of all the questions, she could have asked, regarding the Bifrost, or the nine worlds, she chooses his brother.

Thor is slightly self-conscious about what Jane thinks of Loki, even more so, what she thinks about his main purpose for being on Midgard. He cares about her opinion of him, Thor doesn't want to seem foolish in her eyes, like his father when he had presented the idea of searching for Loki. However, it hadn't been long ago that Loki wreaked havoc and tried to kill her friends, along with his, probably causing more emotional trauma than physical for both parties at the end.

"You must think me strange, searching for someone who attempted to kill—who has killed me," He frowns at the memory. "Nonetheless, he is my brother, a prince of Asgard, and my friend who I would not—."

"Thor, oh gosh, that's not what I meant. That must have sounded terribly rude." She shakes her head frantically back and forth; her delicate, petite hand reaches out to pat sympathetically at his bicep.

"What I meant to say was after he tried to kill you and your friends, what would make you think he would want to be found, that he would want to see you?" Thor knows that she is not intentionally trying to sound harsh, but the words prickle at his eyes, making them water with the thought. He turns his head to the window, thankful that his hair covers his face from her view, his gaze lands on particularly nothing as the desert passes by in blurs.

"I had not thought of that possibility." He says solemnly. He hadn't thought about it at all.

Jane is considerably quite for a length of the car ride, noticing that the topic she breeched did more than hit a nerve. When Thor and Jane do finally speak again, the green-eyed god of mischief is not mentioned once in their conversations as they talk about insignificant, trivial things; but he is positively present in the back of both their thoughts.

* * *

><p>Rays of blinding, radiant warmth assault his eyes as they unenthusiastically crack open for the dawn of a new day.<p>

Loki groans into his black, soft cotton pillows, tempted just to automatically tint the windows and go back to sleep for another hour, maybe forever. He decides not to as he marginally notices that the sun usually is just cresting over the horizon when he wakes for the day.

He lightly startles from the bed, as he looks around, confused at why he slept in so late. Why didn't he wake? Why didn't _Tony_ wake him? He vaguely speculates that he could be dead and Tony wouldn't realizes until three days later at best. He's usually always gone, busy with work as Tony says, which is funny to Loki because the last thing that Tony Stark seems to do is work.

Irony strikes him as he comprehends that despite living with Tony and being his friend, he doesn't know much about him. Loki knows the things that everyone else knows, what the magazines tell them. He knows that Tony considers alcohol as a food group, knows that Tony is somewhat obsessed with the music group AC/DC, and on a personal note, knows that regardless of the amount of fame he has achieved he doesn't like it all that much. This is what he knows about Tony Stark, and for some reason he is fine with knowing this little. He is not one to pry.

The rumbling of his stomach gives him enough incentive to get up and get something to eat, though not before pulling on a t-shirt. As he descends the spiral staircase, he hears muffled laughing and hushed tones of talk. Loki cranes his head slightly, hoping to get a peak of the person who is here to see Tony so early in the morning.

He surprisingly finds out that there are two people, one much bigger than the other, their backs turned so they don't see him immediately. Loki observes them as he leans craftily against the steel railing, arms crossed over his chest. The blond one sits at the bar counter telling Tony something, maybe arguing with him. The brunette stands back, letting the two bump heads without interference.

"Am I interrupting?" Finally making his presences known, Loki comes down the rest of the steps. The two eyes follow him intently, and it somewhat unnerves him, though he sure doesn't show it as he walks down with grace.

"Damn it! And we were trying to keep quite too!" Tony says, shaking his head in a 'tsk tsk' kind of way. "Sorry 'bout that," He winces. "I know you don't sleep well at night." Loki just smiles at him; though in the corner of his eye he watches the blond and the brunette watching him with even more vigor.

A snarky remark is on the tip of Loki's tongue, but before he can say it Tony clears his throat quite awkwardly, sensing the tension in the room, and straightens his jacket blazer with a tug.

"Loki, this is Steve Rogers and Clint Barton, they are uh—co-workers of mine. I don't quite know if I can call them friends, Steve's to much of a prune to do anything I want to do and Clint—" Tony gives the rigid man a once over, "Well is Clint—I'm pretty sure he isn't even human."

The one name Steve gets out of his chair as he makes his way over to Loki, their eyes never leave one another's for a second. Steve extends a hand and Loki wraps his long, slender fingers around it, giving Steve's hand a quick harsh squeeze.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Rogers." Fictitious courtesy oozes from Loki's pores as he gives a smile that reminds Steve of a shark. Steve gulps as he nods. "Likewise."

Loki is the one to release his hand as he makes his way over to Clint Barton who looks at him with barely kept contempt. "Mr. Barton." Loki extends his hand as Clint scrutinizes it with cool eyes, extending his own, giving Loki a firm shake, then releasing. For some reason Loki likes him, likes that he doesn't try to pretend or please.

"So where you two here for business, or…"

Steve is the one to speak up. "Yes, we had to talk to Tony about a—business trip that we all have to take soon, that he should be prepared for it."

Loki's eyebrow tilts up as he thinks that they could have called or sent an email to do this but doesn't voice that certain thought. Instead, he goes in for the more superficial, obvious thing to ask.

"Oh, wow that's pretty cool. Know where you guys are going?" He walks easily into the kitchen, taking out milk, eggs, and bacon from the fridge.

Steve shrugs. "It's pretty much wherever the boss wants us to be."

Loki nods his head in mock understanding, not caring in the least bit about their travel plans. "What do you guys do anyway? Tony's all into computers, is that what you do too?" Loki knows from the look of them that they don't, but he's curious about what these they do, about what they need to travel for.

Steve and Tony suddenly look uncomfortable when the question pops up. Clint does a better job of sub-doing his unease, but Loki can still see the tense shift of feet from the corner of his eye.

He laughs lightly, taking out cinnamon, salt, and sugar from the cupboard overhead. "Oh gosh, don't tell me it's one of those jobs where you're not allowed to say anything about it. How boring." He pouts animatedly.

"Sorry to say it is." Steve says.

Loki smiles at the realization that he now knows something about what Tony, Steve, and Clint do, even if it's little.

"Well I know we would all love to stay and chat, but that job, as a pain in the ass as it is, does require our presence." Tony inquires, patting Steve on the back, leading him towards the door.

"Pleasure to meet you both." Loki says as he ties an apron around his neck.

"Likewise," Steve mutters again and Clint just nods at him.

As they finally exit, Loki wears the biggest grin as he prepares his breakfast. He all of a sudden has the faintest urge to pry.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki finds it amusing that a house can feel so empty without its owner. Tony had left early yesterday morning, early for him at least, for that 'business trip' that so suddenly and urgently required his attention. Loki's curiosity hadn't died around the topic of what Tony Stark called _work_. He had subtlety tried asking about it during light conversation, bringing it up almost as an afterthought, but Tony had been evasive, brushing it off with a flick of the wrist as if it wasn't important or interesting enough to talk about.

Loki somehow knew it wasn't. If it were unimportant or uninteresting, Tony wouldn't be bothered with it. The man loathed boring and predicable, so why work with it? Loki shakes his head dismissively as he pops another bite of omelet into his mouth, groaning softly in appreciation at all the rich flavors that assault his tongue.

Steve Rogers and Clint Barton also did not add up to him. Both men seemed out of place, Steve with his hesitant, shy nature, Clint with his lone wolf, cautious presence. The three of them together almost seemed compelled, as if somebody, or force, demanded them to congregate together, but had no wish too.

Loki was slightly intrigued he had to admit, if only for the purpose of erasing his boredom. With Tony gone everything seemed to dull in color. The man was the epitome of erratic and restlessness, something Loki had grown custom to over the months that he had spent with Tony.

Tossing his plate in the sink and splashing some water on it, Loki chases away his mind inner workings, settling for doing something with a little less brainpower.

Loki flops down on the couch, his legs coming to rest on the glass coffee table, as his arm substitutes a pillow, perching his head up with the crook of his elbow. Television, he has concluded, is only entertaining because of the fools you will find on there. A channel named MTV has become his recent favorite guilty pleasure. He doesn't know which group of people are more lost: the naive underage moms or the ignorant Italian knock-offs.

Flipping through the channels almost becomes dull; the television shows he stumbles upon hold very little interest for him, he is not that big on Saturday morning cartoons and reject movies that nobody watches because they are just that. It isn't until after the twenty-fifth click, a photo of him and Tony flashes across the screen so fast that Loki, for a few seconds, dumbly questions whether or not it was actually him. Loki chokes on nothing in particular when he flips back and realizes that, _yes that in fact is him_.

The photo they have captured is one from earlier in the week, when Tony and he had decided to walk through the city, the weather warm and sunny, seemingly perfect for an afternoon stroll, until that unexpected storm came in, with its lightning blazing and thunder booming.

Loki's lazy lounge on the couch immediately straightens into a taut and perplex position, his eyes widen in curiosity, as the corner of his mouth pulls up in amusement.

This should be interesting; he contemplates, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers slowly interlacing.

"…_So as the weather starts to warm up, it seems that Tony Stark's love life might be too. We don't know exactly who the mystery man is, but we can say that he has to be a special one to earn a smile such as that from billionaire playboy Tony Stark …"_

Loki's eyes instantly flicker to the picture again, seems himself, head thrown back in a laugh, while Tony looks up at him, soft smile on his face as his eyes regard him in— Huh? What exactly would that be?

"…_Though, who wouldn't smile at a man like that? I mean, have you seen those cheekbones?"_

Loki snorts, raising his eyebrow in question at the newscaster woman who disturbing, looks too happy to be doing her job.

"…_An anonymous source has told us that they have seen Mr. Stark and Mystery Man leave and show up together at Tony Stark's own Stark Tower in Chicago several times—sorry fans that are goo-goo over Stark, personally, I don't believe they are studying Quantum Physics up there…_"

Loki stares incredulous at the woman, slightly irked at the slanderous fiction that spews from her mouth. Turning off the TV, he ponders how absurd and irrational their speculations are. Tony and him? Loki laughs lightly at the thought.

Tony Stark the narcissistic, borderline alcoholic, philanthropist, paranoid spaz, unusual, skeptical, playboy…

No, Loki thinks, making his way up to his room, small smile on his face. Nothing I would ever want.

* * *

><p>Navigating the busy and crowded streets of Chicago proves to be more of a challenge then Thor first originally thought. The city itself seems congested. Big, silver superstructures are everywhere, and it seems they touch the edge of the sky as Thor swears he sees them sway back and forth.<p>

Thor is eager to go out and explore, his eyes plastered to the big groups of people that remind him of insect swarms, childishly wishing that maybe he will spot Loki amongst them.

"So, what do we do now Thor?" Jane speaks, her eyes solely trained on the influx of passage in front of them. Littered with so much activity, Thor is positive that it is dangerous to have so many things go on at once.

"We look for my brother. He is somewhere in this city amongst these mortals."

"Yes, I know that Thor, but how do we do it? Chicago has thousands upon thousands of people, finding Loki could take days and—hey," Wariness clouds her words, "Did you even think this through, about what we would do when we got here?" Jane looks at him then, brown eyes wide and disbelieving when Thor fails to say anything back.

Thor stares back blankly as a long stretch of silence settles over them. Suddenly, he realizes with rising embarrassment that he does not have a means of action, that he has charged into battle like an over eager, naïve boy. Desperation and longing have obscured his mind, from the start the only thing that occupied his thoughts was the obsession of finding his brother. He internally curses his mind, as it never exactly said how to go about doing it.

"Oh my god Thor, you don't have a plan?" Jane abruptly slams on the breaks, causing both of their bodies to jolt forward as Thor's head subsequently slams on the dashboard with a big _'smack'_. It is almost comical when she slams on the breaks a second time due to shock, though he manages to avoid a collision again. "Jane." He says sternly.

"Oh god, I am so sorry I didn't mean to do that!" Jane quickly takes his injured head into her hands, turning it this way and that, delicate fingers soothingly rubbing over sore spots. Thor groans slightly, cringing at the throb of dull pain that echoes through his head. "Do not fret, I am fine." He says a he gently pushes her hands away.

"I'm so sorry, you just surprised me and—"

"_What the hell are you doing!"_

Like a banshee, noisy and shrill wails erupt in the air, reverberating in Thor's ears. It is a very loud and unpleasant sound, making the dull ache throb worse.

"Get off of the street you idiot!"

Turning around hastily to pin point the yelling, Jane highly reminds Thor of a spooked animal as her hands fidget on the wheel.

"Oh god, I stopped right in the middle of traffic. What is _wrong_ with me?" More shrills are voiced as they move forward and Thor considers taking Mjolnir to the atrocious yellow thing. They have done what the owner has asked, advanced ahead. Surely, it will not be missed? As Thor looks out over the river of cars, he can see that there are many more like its kind. No, he decides, surely, it will not.

…

"Thor I—I can believe you did that."

Thor shrugs with little care in the world, smile on his face as they walk past Midgardians, some blatantly stare at him with wonderment and curiosity, which makes Thor's smile broader. Jane tends to shy away from the scrutiny, brushing her long, brown hair over her face, and averting her gaze to the ground.

_Fascinating little mortals._

"Did he not deserve it? Being patient and respectful towards others was something that man needed to be taught."

Jane looks up at him incredulous, "So you smashed his taxi?"

Thor nods as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to do.

"So you smash his taxi in front of a bunch of people who are wondering how you smashed his taxi."

"Yes."

"Thor you just can't—people here don't have magic hammers or a rainbow bridge—you just can't go whipping those things out because of some rude asshole."

Thor, confused by the unknowing distress he has caused, lightly grabs Jane, spinning her around to face him by the arm as they come to halt in the middle of the sidewalk. The mortals easily part in two rivers that separate them on their own little island, not worrying about being swept away by the current.

"Jane, I am sorry for the thing I have done to upset you—you are right I am not in my own realm, I am but a visitor here and need to respect the wishes of people who do call this planet home. I am truly sorry."

Jane studies his face for a moment with watchful eyes and he hopes that his genuine confusion and reparation show on his face.

"No more smashing taxis?"

He smirks, "You have my word."

Jane suddenly breaks into a fit of giggles and he cannot help but let out a few tremors also at the way history repeats itself. "Good. Now let's try to find your brother without drawing to much attention to ourselves shall we."

…

Simply asking the Midgardians of Loki's where bouts had proven to be as useless as the hair on his own head as the vague details of his person held no clue to whom he was talking about. Thor tried to use his hands to help explain, being more of an action over words man anyway. However, there was no real way to describe Loki's vibrant green eyes or darker-than-any-night black hair, no way to explain Loki and all his wonderful complexity with mere words and lack luster hand movements. Thor was at a loss, completely frustrated with himself not being able to explain it better.

"Do you have a picture of him or something big guy?"

Thor shakes his head solemnly at the short, stocky man that actually seems to care about Loki's being. Unlike others who passed him off with a wave of a hand. "Sadly I do not."

The man cringes, sympathy written all too noticeable in his eyes and it makes Thor _hurt_. As if translating to him that the chances of finding Loki in this over populated city are slim to none.

"That's gonna be a tough job without a photo kid... Might I ask who he is to you?"

Thor nods his head. "He is my brother."

"Well I hope you find your brother, truly, best of luck." With a compassionate pat on the shoulder, and an even more compassionate smile, the man walks off, rejoining the surge of people. Thor stands off to the side, looking like a lost puppy dog, as disappointment clouds his judgment yet again.

Each person that he asks that is clueless about Loki, leaves him every bit more discouraged and drained then the previous one. He thinks to himself that he should have prepared better for this, that he should have been more patient and waited. He knew it would not be any easy task finding his brother—he knew but—

"Thor, um—" Jane shyly approaches him, her feet shifting repeatedly, as her eyes slightly water. "I know you want to keep asking about your brother but I need to go to bathroom. I really have to go."

"Oh yes, do you wish me to find one for you?" Thor asks, gazing on in concern.

Jane lifts her hand up in dissuasion, shaking her head back and forth. "No, I saw a shop only a couple of stores away from here that will have one. I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't think that I disappeared or anything, I'll be right back."

As he watches her run off, he feels nothing but absolute fondness for the woman of science. To drop everything and follow him on a blind goose chase for a person that had meant her harm, means more to him than she will ever know. Sadly, not even the fairest of warriors on Asgard would leave their dwelling for Loki. As much as it saddens him, he knows it to be true.

Questioning more mortals about Loki takes him no farther than where he was before. Tired of sounding like a broken recorded, he stops his search to take a break, resting on a bench that he surprisingly collapses on, shocked by the fatigue in his legs.

He suddenly feels awkward as he realizes just how out of place he looks compared to the mortals. With Jane around, he at least feels somewhat conventional.

Loosing himself in the crowds, he picks out certain faces, wondering about their families, whether or not they have brothers or sisters, whether they have a good relationships with—

"…_So as the weather starts to warm up, it seems that Tony Stark's love life might be too. We don't know exactly who the mystery man is, but we can say that he has to be a special one to earn a smile such as that from billionaire playboy Tony Stark …"_

It is out of reflex that he happens to look up at the big projector screen, he does not know why he chances a look, but when he does his whole body freezes and his mouth goes instantly dry.

Loki is there on the screen, head thrown back in a laugh that is pure delight, as the brown haired man Thor had seen through Heimdall's sight gazes at him with transparent adoration. They make a very stunning and lively picture.

Thor is standing within the next second, eyes as wide as saucers, as his body is still rigid with shock.

"Loki—" He whispers with anguish.

"…_Though, who wouldn't smile at a man like that? I mean, have you seen those cheekbones?"_

He feels something within him violently tear, and he swears he can hear it, the loud, grizzly splitting of his core.

_Brother, do you not need me anymore?_

Mockingly enough, he hears his father's words ring in the back of his skull, washing him in a cold shiver that runs all the way down to the marrow of his bones.

_"Yes Thor, eventually you will, you will find Loki. Nevertheless, when you do he will have no memories of you, of Asgard. What will you do then, my son?"_

"…_An anonymous source has told us that they have seen Mr. Stark and Mystery Man leave and show up together at Tony Stark's own Stark Tower in Chicago several times—sorry fans that are goo-goo over Stark, personally, I don't believe they are studying Quantum Physics up there…_"

His anguish suddenly turns into seething rage, as he immediately wants to know who this Tony Stark is. How you dare taint a son of Odin with your perversion, he thinks hotly.

"So how goes brother hunting? Have you—Thor are you alright?" Jane says as she saunters up to him, slightly worried at the change of mood.

"Who is Tony Stark?" He does not meet her eyes, they are still intently focused on the projector screen. Curiosity seems to get her too, as she looks up and raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"Uh—he's a really well known guy down here. Makes weapons for the military and—oh my god—is that your brother?"

Thor nods briskly, looking on with distaste. "We are going to his Stark Tower," Thor says harshly as he takes off in a vivacious walk. "I know that it's in this city somewhere."

"Thor now wait—" She says, as her much shorter legs have trouble keeping up with Thor's longer ones.

"Jane this man has my brother! I cannot stand by and know this while Loki is in this man's captivity."

Jane does all that she can to divert Thor as they edge ever closer to Stark Tower. It shines in the sun like a beacon, as STARK taunts them in big blue capital letters. Jane dreads the oncoming trouble that they are so obviously about to get into.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry about the long wait! Boy was this chapter was a pain for me to get out for some reason. I hope you guys are excited! Loki and Thor will meet next chapter, and in a quite...intresting way. Thanks so much for those who have review, favorite, and alerted! The feedback this story is getting is cray cray!


	6. Chapter 6

Loki laughed high and shrill as the guards of Odin's court dragged him roughly by the elbows, his knees trailed heavily below him on the golden floor, no doubt giving him some sort of burn, being unable, or most likely unwilling to walk. The tendons in his neck trembled erratically as he threw his head back, laughing all the harder and louder, as his emerald eyes glowed, looking on in crazed, sick, amusement.

"I did it! I destroyed that race of monsters! _I did it." _Loki said with a possessive and proud tone, raising his chin high. Thor did not know if Loki was speaking to anyone in particular or just himself as he continued spewing harsh slights in his wrathful daze. "I did it. Not _Thor! _Finally, those putrid monsters get what they deserve! Do not tell me you _fair_ Asgardians were not already indulging in the thought!"

Thor visibly cringed, striding wistfully a few paces behind were his brother was being dragged like a rabid animal. In all his years, he had never seen Loki so unhinged, so vengeful, so _vexed_, he wanted to confront his brother, he wanted to comfort him.

_Loki why would you do this? Why would you destroy a race that you seemingly had no quandary with before? Loki, what happened when I was gone that changed you so?_

These questions and more hanged heavy on Thor's conscious than anything else. He knew that he would not get his questions answered so easily, Loki had committed genocide, and he knew for the heinous act Loki would go through Asgardian court.

Thor's fists clenched at his sides as a shiver ran from his shoulders to his toes. By the might of the branches of Yggdrasil he hoped that Loki would not get the severest punishment; be banished to Niflheim to have Loki's soul be another pawn in Hella's underworld army. He would refuse to have his brother's soul tarnished and thrown away; Loki was still a prince of Asgard, and Thor would demand to have that be acknowledged and revered.

Odin, who walked ahead, his guards following obediently at his heels, suddenly stopped. Thor eased out from his mind inner workings to notice that they were in the throne room, and his father, who looked worse for wear, paced frantically back and forth in front of his golden dais.

The palace was eerily quiet except for Loki's deranged rambling and his lunatic hilarity.

"So now the All-father determines what to do with me," Loki's insults rang high in the tense air. Thor so desperately wanted him to keep quiet, to make it easier on himself, on everyone. "I am your spoil of war am I not! Going to turn me into a lowly servant, always forced on his knees, not even deserving enough to clean a mares hoof. Or perhaps you plan to finish me in exchange for peace at the all-out war Asgard has declared against all the nine worlds—oh excuse me, _eight_." Loki said with taunting gall. "You should have just let me fall into that abyss, would have saved you the trouble!"

Odin ignored him and continued pacing, thumb on the bridge of his nose. By the exterior of his father, Thor was not sure if Odin had even heard Loki's outrage, but he had. The words felt as hot as melted iron barbs that slowly, intimately, intruded into his skin, scalding him to the core.

Loki's laughter started again when he realized on one was going to rise to his occasion. He bellowed, and each time that his lungs ran out of air, only pausing slightly to fill them back up again, the wails only became more abnormal and intense. The sound made Thor's skin crawl.

"Loki—please—"

"Oh it talks! Almost forgot you were here _dear brother_! Enjoying the show? So rich how you the mighty, golden, son of Odin can barge into Jotunheim as if the ice throne was for your very own making, threaten its actual king with words of war, and then slay countless upon countless and walk away with a mere slap on the hand! Pathetic, just as you _Odinson_!" Loki spit the words out venomously.

Thor did not reply, he wanted to know if Loki had merely left out or forgotten when he had been stripped of his power, of his title, and banished to Midgard for his foolish actions that had taken place on Jotunheim. He had endangered Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three, along with himself, he had been brash and foolish, and he realized that now.

"Someone silence him! I can barely think!" Odin tersely ordered.

The bright, disturbing enjoyment that showed on Loki's face instantly clouded over as his gaze pierced through Odin, snarl forming at his lips.

"I am not some broken in dog, you decrepit, old fool! I am—" Cut off by a metal muzzle; Loki looked more than enraged as he fought the two guards tooth and nail not to be degraded in yet another way. His legs kicked out from under him, giving himself a momentary upper hand, but the guards were much stronger and bigger than he was, so it took nothing to push his knees back on the floor. Muffled screams and curses only filtered the air now, as Thor lowered his head, not being able to witness his brother restrained and silenced like the war criminal he was.

"Oh the truly horrifying monstrosity you have made my son." Odin finally regarded Loki, his single eye looking down at him in sorrow. Loki only struggled more, spurned by Odin's words as he mumbled something heated under the muzzle.

"I do not truly think you understand yet the consequences of your actions, you have destroyed a world. It does not matter that the Jotnar have been at odds with Asgard for many centuries, you Loki Odinson, did not do Asgard a favor. You murdered thousands upon thousands. You murdered innocents. You murdered _children_."

Odin's voice cracked with emotion as he slightly turned his head away, shielding eyes from such a rare occurrence.

"A world and its people are gone because of _your _actions, because of your arrogant self-righteousness!"

Loki's bravado dimmed somewhat as his eyes lowered submissively, the words, Thor guessed, settled and processed in his mind, where they would linger and fester until they warped into something grotesque and appalling.

"This act of violence cannot go unpunished," Odin said gravely, seeming so feeble as he climbed the stairs of his dais. "You will have to pay for what you have done, I think you know that much my son, and now I cannot even protect you."

* * *

><p>The last person that Loki expects when he picks up the phone is Tessa from the front desk of Stark Tower. She's a small, middle-aged woman from Texas who Loki, has to admit, likes. Yeah, she's a little ditzy and scatter-brained, and always calls him Lock instead of Loki whenever he happens to see her, but she is nice and to him that's all that matters.<p>

"Hello Tessa, what can I—" He stops, slightly taken back when he hears loud, profound, hollers that echo into his end of the phone. What the—? Is it some homeless guy again, refusing to leave the building, making one big unnecessary, useless scene?

"Look, sweetheart, I'm not trying to scare you or anything, but there is a man here very passionate about seeing you. I mean. Very. Passionate."

He gapes for a minute, surprised, listening to the distant yells of this 'passionate man', and sadly, they do not dwindle.

"Tessa—who and the hell—what's going on down there?" Loki asks incredulous, mildly amused. He doesn't let scared fray at the edge of his mind just yet.

"Um—well he's big—and blonde—and you would not believe the fight he's been putting up—still putting up and—oh there goes another one." There is an edge of excitement that mixes with her words, he can imagine how being behind a desk all day, saying hello's and goodbye's and dealing with whatever else her job requires could get thoroughly boring.

Loki's happy for the little distraction it gives her—he really is, but the big blonde-haired-brute demanding to see him kind of ruins it.

"Tessa, focus, have they at least tried to calmed him down yet? I mean—I thought there was at least fifty security guards in Stark Tower, all trained with something close to karate. What's taking them so long? Kick him out or something."

"They're trying."

Grunts and yells, along with pained moans fill his ear as anxiety settles somewhere deep in his gut.

"Honey, this guy—he's not playing around—he's throwing around the security guards like rag dolls, and you've seen them—they are all at least three hundred pounds."

Loki jumps slightly when he hears another voice on the phone, a deep rich baritone, obviously breathless from the fighting. Loki probably would have admired it if wasn't for the uncertainty that racked his brain. The voice huffed out a few more breaths, winded, before speaking. He heard Tessa squeak when he did.

"My brother, where is he?"

Loki's face scrunched up in confusion. Brother? He didn't have a brother—well at least he didn't think he did. Moreover, even if he did, surely, he would not be related to someone as deranged as—well—whoever the hell was on the other line.

"I know he is here! I know Tony Stark is keeping him here like some harlot! He does not belong here. I am taking him home! I will ask you one more time before I storm this tower myself, where is he?"

Feet freezing to the spot, Loki internally shouts, warning her not to tell. He doesn't even whisper a word, dreading that somehow it will make finding him all that much easier for this stranger.

"I'm sorry sir, but you cannot go any farther. I assure you, your brother is not here."

Loki has to give her props at how convincing and 'in charge' she sounds, what makes it more pleasing is the tangy southern accent that commands authority. Loki has hope that maybe their _guest _has taken the hint and will leave to where ever the hell he came from. He has this hope until he hears her calmly say: "Loki, lock your door. Whatever you do, do not open that door. I've already alerted Mr. Stark. Everything should be worked out shortly." She hangs up, without another word, just like that.

He thinks vaguely that the face he's making has to be hilarious, as he clutches the phone in a death grip.

"Why the hell would you call Tony? Call the police!" He says to no one in particular as he paces nimbly to the door, looking out the tiny peephole, locking the door in the process.

Well, he thinks apprehensively, backing away from the door cautiously. It could have been worse—I could have been in the shower, nothing more embarrassing than dying naked.

* * *

><p>"Thor, oh my god, Thor, stop! Stop right now! We can't do this! We are breaking probably more than a few laws! We don't even know if Loki is here!"<p>

Jane feels her legs work over time as she and Thor scramble up the steps of Stark Tower. If Thor had given her the time, she would have admired and appreciated how the staircase walls were glass, clearly, shining like crystal whenever the sun reflected off of it, she could probably see the whole city of Chicago if she went high enough.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, Jane considers taking up running as a hobby, as much as she's been doing it lately. Thor of course hadn't even broken a sweat, even with fighting all those security guards beforehand, Thor merely out maneuvered them with ease.

"Thor! Thor are you listening to me! You better be listening! We need to think this over! Have you forgotten that we are not in Asgard! Our rules are different!"

Thor slows mildly at that, skeptically looking at her over his shoulder, bottom lip stubbornly pouting out. Jane breathes a sigh of relief as she hunches over to catch her breath. She could tell how much he wanted to go on, to finally see his brother again, but they needed to do this the smart way, she just had to convince him of that.

"Okay—just," A cough, "Hear me out, Thor you can't just barge in this building—any building for future reference—and act as kooky as you did back there. You may be very well-known in Asgard, but you are not here."

Jane pauses for a second, letting the information sink and settle into Thor, his internal pain showing all too evidently on his face.

"I meant no harm—truly. I just—when I saw Loki on that screen I—I felt desperately like I needed to get to him."

Nodding, Jane quietly says, "I understand that, but Thor, aren't you forgetting another key element?" Tilting his head to the side in confusion, eyes scrunching up as well, Thor says, "I do not think I understand?"

"I think you forgot that Loki doesn't know you. He has no idea who you are. Can you imagine what it would be like for someone who has no idea who you are beating people up, calling you brother, doing everything in their power to get to you? Can you imagine how scary that could be?"

Shock and realization filter over Thor's face that tell her in no exact terms he hadn't thought of that issue in a while, or at least put it on a back burner.

Sighing, Jane walks up the few steps separating them, putting her arm soothingly on his.

"I had completely forgotten—"

"Hey, it's okay—we just need to go about this a different way—a way that doesn't involve us getting thrown into prison."

She could tell by the lines and dips of his face how disappointed and frustrated he was, to come so close to your goal, but in retrospect have it so far away. Jane guest it was like deja-vu all over again for Thor, with the power struggle for Mjolnir, working so hard to find the hammer, to have it only deny him in return.

"Everything will work out—now let's go before we actually do get thrown into prison—I heard a couple of people calling the police back there." Patting him sympathetically on the back, Jane stirs Thor down the flight of stairs, though at first, he comes reluctantly.

Their fifth step in and something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. At first, she passes it off as a bird, but as realization starts to hit her, she notices that there is a trail of pale smoke coming off from behind it.

That's odd, she ponders faintly, slowing slightly to get a better look. Analyzing it more thoroughly, she apprehends that it cannot possibly be a bird, the object is moving way to fast…and there is no sign of wings flapping—

"Jane, are you okay?" She doesn't even acknowledge him or answer, nor does she continue walking.

Surely—that cannot be what I think it is? No—it can possibly be—

A million and one scenarios rush into her head as she watches the approaching object. Jane can see now that it cannot be a bird, or a jet, or missile, because it moves to erratically in the air, weaving and webbing through the different currents of the wind. All sensors in her brain tell her to take Thor and run, never to look back as this—whatever it is advances hastily. Rooted to the ground, the only thing that she can find herself doing is staring at the object with a mix of fascination and trepidation.

"What kind of Midgardian contraption is that?" Thor asks, his tone holds the same type of unease her heart feels.

"I—I don't know. I've never seen anything like that before."

Gold and red seem to litter the sky, as she can see its intention as clear as day. "Thor it's going to crash into the building!"

Like second nature, Thor pushes Jane behind him, shielding her completely from the awaited blow. Dreaded anticipation swells within her, as she tightly closes her eyes, clenching her tiny fists in his shirt. Preparing for the worst; shards of glass embedding miles into her skin, Jane quietly prays to a god she does not believe in, hoping that he or she will have enough mercy to get her alive out of this one.

A piercing, resonate, chorus of glass shattering and breaking echoes, making an ensemble down and above the many levels of stairs. Cold air along with shards of glass fly passed them, screaming, Jane doesn't dare open her eyes, if she's going to die she reasons it would be much more painful if she actually saw it.

Seconds pass by that feel like minutes as more glass filters by, the cold air wraps around her like a vice, making goose bumps arise on her skin.

"Thor—are you alright?"

"Yes—but I'm not so sure about the metal intruder. Flying into a panel of glass has seemed to have—winded him."

Him? Jane's eyes immediately fly open at the mention.

"There is no way that could've been a man!"

A chuckle erupts in the air that in every sense seems out of place. Curiosity gets the better of her, as Jane peeks timidly over Thor's shoulder, gasping at the sight that she could swear came out of a science fiction novel.

A gold and red metal man lying sprawled out on the debris-covered floor.

"Oh shit—I didn't think the glass would be that _tough_," The metal man gives something mimicking a shrug as he hoists himself up, "Oh well, more awesome points for me for picking it out—and who are you talking about _intruder_?"

The voice is familiar, she can't really pin point where she may have heard it from, but she has heard and that's the bizarre part.

"Oh—to the lady friend—sorry, I wouldn't have crashed in like this if I knew big guy didn't have a plus one," The man gives a shaky laugh as if trying to defuse tension, "By the way, medical bills all on me."

Getting on wavering feet, putting his hands out to steady himself, the metal man finally stands strong. The suit is truly impressive, awe-inspiring, and Jane finds herself wanting to study it even though she has no knowledge in the engineering field, or whatever field it's in that's way out of her league.

"Well, well, well, I've heard a lot about you God of Thunder," Thor stiffens as the metal man slowly approaches them, as if scared to spook an already unpredictable animal. "I've heard about your escapades in rural New Mexico, gotta say, that had to suck, dying and all."

Flipping the faceplate up, Jane gasps again for the umpteenth time.

Holy shit—holy shit—

"The name's Tony Stark." He says, extending a hand. "Though, I guess you already knew that, being here and all."

* * *

><p>AN: I **PROMISE** that Thor and Loki will meet next chapter! I promise! I know how much you guys want to see them re-united and you will! I know, I'm horrible for keeping it this long. But anyways, thank you guys so much for the feedback, its amazing, I'm very happy you guys are liking it and sticking with it. It means a lot!


	7. Chapter 7

**~Four Years Ago~**

Tony Stark fidgets while he waits, legs crossing and then uncrossing again. He can't tell how many times he has hiked up his sleeve cuff in irritation to check his watch, within the twenty minutes of him sitting here. Anxiously, Tony swivels around back and forth in his chair, sitting directly across from the stainless steel doors that he hopes will fissure any minute.

Really, the anxiety is getting to him big time. He hates to be kept waiting.

_How rude, Fury, being late to your own party._

When Tony first arrived on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s flying aircraft carrier (big-as-fuck) he had reveled in awe at how massive the tin can actually was. Tony didn't admit it to himself, (he had _way_ too much pride) but he was slightly jealous that someone had created something that exceeded his own idea of possibility.

Technology and possibility went hand in hand, and even though he had backed off from military manufacturing after the Ten Rings—_incident, _creating weapons and improving their accuracy and performance had been the most exciting work of his life, only, of course, after the Iron Man suit.

Nevertheless, there was nothing like being kidnapped by a terrorist organization, being kept alive against your own will, and then finding out that the man behind it all was someone who you admired, to persuade you enough to never touch military weaponry again.

Of course, there were times when Tony almost gave it all up, almost said 'fuck it'. He never asked for what his father bestowed upon him at the fragile age of eighteen. What the hell was an eighteen year-old supposed to do with a multi-million (at the time) dollar company?

He can tell you what he did with it: Booze, fancy cars, fancier houses, long trips to Monaco and Cancun, customized jets—the list goes on…

The majority of his dad's colleagues had been furious that Howard Stark gave his 'at risk son' all the power—all the fortune—everything, and Tony understood why. Hell, the more he thought about it, the more sense it did not make.

Startling marginally, as the steel doors opposite him opened with a fast _whoosh_. Director Fury comes straight into view as his ever-present scowl greets him. Abruptly, Tony has the thought to ask if Fury has _ever_ smiled in his life, or did he just come out of the womb with a grimace plastered to his face. Disappointingly, he does not ask, though he will not acknowledge why.

"Tell me Director Fury, were are the rest of your marry men? I do have a multi-billion dollar company to help run, and I am sure a man such as your self can understand the urgency of—"

Fury doesn't even spare him a glance as he marches in, black suitcase in his hand to match the black trench coat that follows him at the heels.

Only seconds later, all orderly and neatly, more people start to file in.

Tony already knows one. The red-haired, dangerous, beauty who he issues a frown to as her eyes land insinuatingly on him. The guy that follows closely at her side is lean (maybe a runner?) and shorter than her, his dirty blond hair is obviously gelled, giving him one of those 'faux hawks' he obviously still thinks is in style.

Tony quietly snorts, which, funny enough, earns a glare from Natasha.

Another boy-girl duo walk in, a man in his early forties, clean shaven, suit pressed, and hair parted precisely, nods politely at him. The woman on the other hand, stern and uptight he can tell from her posture, merely regards him in recognition, and follows her partner.

The next two that come in Tony has to do a double take. He knows both men _very_ well.

One man his father never seemed to shut up over and the other man Tony respected and admired on a scientific level for years.

Steve Rogers strolls in humbly, in clothes that seem to be 30 years his senior as he takes his seat opposite of Tony. Bruce Banner paces in last, eyes trained to the floor as he takes his seat secluded from everyone else.

Tony, in the past, had pulled up and seen footage of when Bruce Banner was 'the other guy', and as chaotic and destructive as Culver University in Virginia and Harlem in New York City had been, Tony surprisingly had no worries about Banner 'Hulking Out'.

While looking around and sizing everyone up, Tony tries his hardest not to look impressed. It's a _very_ tough job.

"Mr. Stark meet my band of marry men—and woman." Fury says sternly, his arms spanning out in emphasis to the entire boxed in room. Tony doesn't retaliate to the transparent fun Nick pokes at him.

"Now ladies and gentlemen, you're here today about the start of the Avengers indicative."

As Fury starts his lecturing, the most bizarre feeling wells up in his gut. He knows that whatever they are about to embark on, it will be world changing.

* * *

><p>"The name's Tony Stark," The gold and red metal man announces, extending a hand out to Thor, and he does not take it—will not. "Though, I guess you already knew that, being here and all."<p>

Instead, in a more heedless, blunt action, Thor grabs Tony by his metal neck, his hand large enough for his fingers to fit around thickness of it, and picks him up as if he would a plush toy.

Tony gawks at him in perplexed astonishment; he's not really worried about himself—he's in the Iron Man suit after all, but Thor just picking him up without an inkling of physical exertion strikes a little intimidation in his heart. The suit is copious and cumbersome—and that's not even with him in it!

Even after doing research on Norse mythos, Tony had taken all of it in— about Yggdrasil, Asgard, Odin, and of course the most famous and interesting out of all, the obsessive, borderline love/hate relationship between Thor and Loki—Tony had accepted all of _that_.

Nevertheless, he somehow overlooked that Thor was a _god_. An actual god that wielded not only super-human strength, but also thunder and lightning, one god that looked_ extremely_ pissed off at him.

A laugh out of all things, begrudgingly, finds a way out of his mouth.

_Smooth Tony._

"I do not see how any of this is amusing metal man." Thor says as his frown deepens, knocking him harder than necessary against a wall that isn't glass.

"Where is my brother—Loki, I know he is here amongst this dwelling. Take me to him, now."

Tony sighs lividly, greatly wanting to express how much of a horrible idea that actually is, but even with the layer of metal that separates his throat from Thor's awaiting hand, Tony's still hesitant about telling the Thunder god no.

"I would really love to tell you—really—I mean as much as I would want to see a happy brotherly family reunion—which I _totally_ would—it would be like an episode of Jerry Springer—maybe classier—we can only hope—but that's beside the point—um what if I told you he wasn't here?"

He's stalling—anyone can tell he's stalling. But he needs to think, needs to figure out a way of calming Thor down, his mission depends on it. If Thor were to just barge in yelling, 'brother this' and 'brother that', and 'Asgard', and "Odin", the work that S.H.I.E.L.D. had endeavored for the past two years could potentially be thrown out the very big hypothetical window. In the back of his mind, Tony can imagine Fury droning and chastising him about another 'incomplete' or 'failed' mission.

_Sorry Patchy, not this time._

"Then I would say you take me for a fool, metal man. I know he is here—that woman spoke to him—I will not leave until I see him—which I can do with or without your assistance." Thor says sensibly enough, but underneath Tony can see a storm brewing inside, can see dark, gray storm clouds start to gather overhead, can feel the air charging with potent electricity, and Tony in particular does not want to get hit.

"Looks like my mind is made up," Thor tilts his head slightly, "I'll take you to see him—but first we have to talk—and I mean _talk_—then I have to set some rules." Tony's not quite sure if he is going to regret this later or not—but hey—who got anywhere by making the logical decision?

Thor seems to be satisfied with the answer as he lets out a relieved breath.

Lowering Tony, setting him gingerly on his feet, Thor lowers his head in reparation. "I am sorry. I am usually not this temperamental; my brother seems to stir this attribute even when he's not by my side." Thor smiles fondly, surely pondering happier moments, and for a moment, Tony finds himself envious of Thor.

"You have a deal, metal man." Thor says, hand outstretching. Snorting, Tony takes it.

"By the way it's not metal man—it's Iron Man—Metal Man sounds so lame." Tony scrunches his face up in mock mortification.

"Man of Iron it is then." Tony just blanches at him—he'll take what he can get.

"Oh yeah—how's your lady friend? Lady friend you okay?" Tony had almost forgotten about the pretty little brunette at Thor's side. Looking over Thor's shoulder, he sees that she's over in one of the corners of the stair well, farthest from the broken, shattered mess that was a glass wall, gazing at Tony with a mix of amazement and perturbation.

"It's Jane, Mr. Stark—and yes I'll be okay; just give me like—500 minutes."

He chuckles, "There all yours."

* * *

><p>Loki can't say he has ever enjoyed the waiting game.<p>

Lazily resting on the couch, his feet propped up by the coffee table; Loki feigns a look of nonchalance as the amount of anxiety that courses through him with each given second—minute starts to become unbearable.

It's not even fear that racks his mind, not really. Loki just cannot stand the unknown—he doesn't like the helpless, weak feeling it gives him. It sourly reminds him of worse times, of when he had been utterly confused about who he was when he had first woken up. How he couldn't even do anything without his stomach rolling and his head turning.

No, it's not the fear of the unknown, he thinks. It's the lack of power you have before hand in waiting for it to get here.

The waiting game he currently plays with fate is based on chance. Either Tony will brazenly strut through the door or the possessed stalker loon will tear it down.

What he does not expect—_not at all_ is for both of them to walk in together. Like clockwork, Tony struts in, expensive suit and all, whistling a catchy tune as he places a set of keys on the counter top as if nothing is wrong. Like there isn't a man behind him who is possibly three Tony Starks put together and could potentially eat the fourth one in front of him.

Loki doesn't exaggerate when he thinks this, the man is _huge_—and blond—_very_ blond, and Loki is immediately reminded of the sun and it's radiance, so much so that he is somewhat hard to look at it.

Loki doesn't remember when he stands, but he does, in a fast, erratic move that has body feeling like it's on auto pilot. The move catches the attention of the man and his big bulkiness stops instantly as if an unnamable force has willed this of him. He catches sight of Loki and his face—his face becomes so _open_—transforming into something so euphoric that Loki doesn't know what to make of it. It awes him, he has never seen such pure honesty through a visage before.

The man's lips, which are full and lush, part open on a breath, almost as if he's trying to steady himself, trying to gather back parts of himself that dared escape.

Finally meeting his eyes, Loki's breath hitches visibly in his throat. The oddest sensation cascades over him as he holds the attention of the bluest and brightest eyes he has ever seen, they easily beat the sky even at its clearest. His blue eyes glow radioactive as he stares back at Loki with the same wonderment and it's highly unnerving.

He wants to look away—he truly does—but the longer he stares the more enraptured he becomes. In the back of his mind, faraway from where blue eyes and blond hair do not dominate his senses, Loki scolds himself for being so torpid and feeble. How embarrassing, he reckons, dazed by some demented and deranged nut.

"_Loki_—"

He wonders if his imagination is playing cruel, sick tricks on him as he hears the barely there whisper of his name. Loki shivers at the way it sinks into him.

"Well I would love to tell you about the day I've had—but in all honesty you wouldn't believe me." Tony announces from the kitchen, pouring himself some sort of alcohol drink as he loosens his tie.

Tony almost makes everything seem normal as he does this with his usual boyish nature. The familiarities of the simple gesture give a calm comfort to Loki, as he is finally able to break eye contact with the stranger.

Giving him one last suspicious look over, Loki turns his accusing glare on Tony, who only gives an amused shrug as if to say, 'there a problem?'

_Damn right there is._

"Do you _know_ him?" Loki asks, pointing childishly at _him_ in particular. He is slightly mortified at how shrill he sounds, how his voice seems to go up an octave, though is too angry to give a flying fuck.

"Tony I swear to god—if this was some joke—"

Tony puts both his hands in the air immediately, quickly gulping down the last of his drink. "Whoa—whoa—pump your breaks—I had nothing to do with it. I had no idea they were coming."

Loki's brows furrow in confusion. _They? _

For a stupid, moronic second he looks back at the blond, expecting to see a twin brother, but is surprised when he sees a dark haired woman that is a dwarf in comparison to the tall drink of water she stands next to. Making eye contact with her, she gives a shy smile and waves at him rather nervously.

Frowning, Loki ignores her and looks back at Tony for answers.

"It was a complete misunderstanding! Point Break here," gestures to blondy, "Had no idea you were here—didn't even know you lived here. He was looking for his brother—Steve, you know—you met him only a couple of days ago." Tony explains as he moves out of the kitchen into the living room, which crackles with tense energy.

Loki looks at the man again with a new pair of eyes—or at least more informed, as he is extra careful to avoid those luminous blue orbs for in fear of getting lost in them again.

He looks enough like Steve Rogers kin. Both have blond hair, blue eyes, and a strong build. Loki suspects that he is the older brother, there is just something wise and experienced that seems to roll of him in compelling waves.

"Thom here has been gone for the past—five years—you know studying abroad and what not. And um—he just got back and heard about how me and Steve broke up—and let me tell you—it wasn't pretty—so he was mad—wanting to comfort his lil' bro—while wanting to beat me up. Unfortunately, he found you instead." Tony finishes off with a pleased smile, clapping Thom stiffly on the back, only making him cough uncomfortably.

Loki stares at both of them incredulous; half tempted to wring Tony's neck for treating the situation as if he picked up a stray cat from an alley, all the while trying to convince his mother to let him keep it.

Trust Tony Stark to—

"Wait, you—you dated Steve?"

Tony sighs, scrunching up his face in obvious displeasure; as if a mere mention of the past brings back unwanted memories. Loki fails at suppressing the utter bitterness and hostility he suddenly feels for Steve Rogers, jealousy seizes him around the heart in a vice grip that does not, at any time in the near future, seem to let go.

"Yeah, but that's another talk—another day, right now where dealing with these heathens." Tony signals to Thom and his girl, and she shrinks back just at the sheer connotation of the mentioning, as if her very existence is a burden.

"They're going to stay with us for a while—with Thom and Jane just getting back in the states they need some place to stay—and Steve's gonna wanna see his bro so—"

"So then why can't they stay at _Steve's_?" Loki doesn't want to sound like the jealous ex-girlfriend, but he can't help it. His nerves are on the end of his wits, his anxiety has gone through the roof—and _then _some, and he's tired—just really fucking tired.

Tony looks somewhat shocked by the outburst and he thinks _good_. He doesn't really care about the other two.

"Loki—come on," He says in _that_ voice, the voice usually used to persuade him to see a different side of things other than his own. "Steve doesn't even live in Chicago—he lives in Brooklyn, and he's not even there, he's out of the country right now. They have no place to stay—and this place is big enough. I promise there are not as crazy as they seem."

Loki pouts, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "Whatever," He mumbles.

Tony beams, surging his hands together in a loud clap. "Then it's settled! Welcome home guys!"

"I um—," Loki starts when blue eyes finally speaks. He regards him apprehensively still mildly intimidated by his sheer overwhelming presences.

Thom doesn't look at him as much as he looks at the ground, and this gratifies Loki somewhat. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier—my intention was not to frighten you, even though it must have—I was just—my brother—I really wanted to see him."

Loki cocks an eyebrow at this. "Couldn't you have—you know—used a phone? Much more effective I think then, '_storming the tower myself_'." Loki mocks; reciting words he had heard earlier through the phone. It has the desired effect as Thom shifts awkwardly foot to foot, and Loki even gets a bonus as he sees a faint blush paint over the his cheeks.

He chuckles tauntingly at the sight, having a man his stature, his height _blush_; Loki has never seen anything odder.

"I—I do not have a phone." Thom says timidly, wringing his hands restlessly behind his back, as his eyes stay submissively on the ground. He still will not even chance a glance up. Loki doesn't know if it's from some weird habit he has from childhood, or if it's out of respect for scaring the living daylights out of him, but ironically enough, Loki wants him just for a brief second to glimpse up.

"Yeah—obviously," Loki questions whether or not it's the inner sadist in him, but he all of a sudden likes seeing this man squirm. Not only is it amusing, but there is an undercurrent of power he gets from messing with him. It's—strange.

"Guys—I don't know about you—but I am _starving_. Let's go out! Get something to eat! I promise it will be my treat."

Eating is probably the last thing in the world Loki wants to do right now. He's pretty sure even if he did eat, he would just throw it back up.

"You go—I'm not really up for it. My bed is looking much more appealing than a steak at the moment."

Tony shrugs, "Your loss. No Shawarma for you."

It's only shortly after they leave, while he's in bed that Loki thinks, _shit I let him keep the cat_.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm soooo sorry for the longer than usual delay. I had some personal issues going on that made writing near impossible. So sorry again! I hope you guys liked this chapter…it was…_interesting _to write. **Please Review** and tell me what you think, your input really helps keep the ball rolling and the ideas flowing :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So this chapter is shorter than the other ones, I plan to get a second one in **before the 31****st** because I am traveling in August and writing will be the last thing on my mind for that month. In addition, I was **asked by a guest reviewer if this was a ThorxLoki **story and **it is**. TonyxLoki is something that will be lightly explored, but it is not endgame, sorry FrostIron shippers! I hope you guys enjoy, **please** **read & review**!

* * *

><p>When Loki dreams, he dreams of laughter, of happiness. However, he does not see anything within this dream, does not know if he is the one who is happy, or if it is someone else, but he vaguely finds that he does not in fact care. It is a thousand times better than the dreams where he is falling, for what seems like infinity, where there is nothing but fast, rumbling wind that echoes through his ears.<p>

His dream is a blur of colors; no shape takes a form, just streaks that look painted on a canvas. They move with the laugher, shaking with the vibrations that sound as if from a little boy.

Red and green. These colors are the dominant in the painting. They swirl around each other, never mixing, as if they are playing with one another, chasing each other. Maybe that's where the laughing is coming from?

It continues like this, laughing and chasing, the feeling of pure happiness that Loki is sure he has never known.

Moreover, when wakes up, it's not in a jolt, but a simple, disoriented blink. He smiles to himself, thinking this is how it should always be.

* * *

><p>Stepping lazily down the spiral staircase, Loki hears quite, subtle sounds of cabinets closing, glasses <em>tinking<em>, a coffee pot hissing as it brews, and Loki thinks oddly that Tony _never _tries to be quiet in the kitchen, so why would he start now?

Reality hits him like a truck when he descends the last few stairs only to see _her_, the long haired brunette that sits idly on the kitchen counter top. Loki hopes under that big baggy t-shirt covering her knees, that she's wearing shorts, because he prepares _food_ on that counter top, and he doesn't need her ass dirtying the area.

Curling his lip up in distaste, Loki studies her more before he alerts her of his presences. He searches for any behavior that proves ill, Loki still does not trust her, or her _boyfriend_, and he finds them to be too odd — uncanny for his own good.

Loki honestly had hoped that last night's incident had been a sort of berserk add-on to his collection of fucked up dreams, thinking about it, he actually would have preferred if it were. The dream he would had left, real life he could not.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you lived here, you seem to finding everything _just_ fine."

Loki swears he sees her jump five feet in the air, t-shirt fanning out in a pleasant way where he can tell she's wearing tacky Bugs Bunny boxer shorts, _thank god_. She bustles around the kitchen, in a frantic 'chicken without its head' movement like she quite doesn't know what to do with herself, all the while, trying to flatten her unruly hair down with her palms as if he actually gives a fuck about what her hair looks like.

"Um—hi." She says shakily, adding a laugh at the end of it, probably trying to make it sound less awkward than it already is. It doesn't work.

Loki just stares at her for a moment, unimpressed by the display. He rolls his eyes, looking over at the coffee pot, having more interest in it than her.

"I hope you _at least_ made more than one cup." He deadpans, expecting completely for her to say she has not.

She brightens fully at this, smiling and nodding her head enthusiastically like an over achieving dog and says "Yes! I made twelve actually!"

Loki looks at her then in unabashed surprise, brow raised high, as dismay and dread settle over his being yet again. Maybe he still has a chance to convince Tony to fly both of them to New York, be damned Steve Rogers—

As if sensing his thoughts, she quickly fills in, "Oh, no no no—it's not all for me! Thor—I mean Thom!—he loves coffee so I thought I would make him some before he woke up—he's not an morning person, he can be a little groggy— if that's cool with you."

He vaguely wonders why she even asks, if she's already gone and done it. Not caring in the slightest that the coffee is still brewing, Loki takes the handle in hand, watching as a barrage of brown steaming liquid hits the hot plate with a _hiss_, and pours himself a cup. "No not at all." Loki says dryly, roughly shoving the coffee pot back in its maker.

Loki relaxes a bit, sliding his eyes shut, as the aroma of Starbucks Breakfast Blend drifts up into his nostrils, capping the slight edge that comes with having two bizarre strangers in his home. Loki only pours a smidge of creamer and a pinch of sugar into his beverage, believing solely that creamer and sugar take away from naturally good coffee, that it steals away its integrity, and nothing that is _so good_ should ever have to have a flavor substitute.

His relaxation comes to a halt as he sees from the corner of his eye the girl watching him, not even trying to hide her obvious interest, as she quirks her head, thoughtful crease between her brows.

Her staring vexes him, innerves him in a way that is far from when he piques the interest of dull woman on the street. It is not attraction that keeps her watching—he _knows _what attraction looks like—she watches him as if he is some _puzzle_ to figure out, to put back together piece by piece, he wants to laugh at the simple irony of it, but instead loudly clears his throat.

"Jane was it?" He asks, taking a delicate sip.

She flushes brightly, and the theory that she was watching unconsciously rings true as she frantically averts her gaze, staring anywhere but him.

She nods, "Yes, Jane Foster—and your Loki?"

He hums an affirmative, coffee already numbing his nerves.

"Last name?"

"Hmm?"

"Your last name—you didn't mention it." She says timidly.

Loki wants to say that maybe he didn't mention it for a reason, since seemingly, he has a newly formed stalker phobia that is half her fault, but instead goes for the less aggressive route.

"Ah—my last name—I don't know it, well at least I don't know the real one."

He is mildly surprised when she does not react in the expected way everyone else does when he tells people he has no inkling of his last name. There is no confused tilt of the head, or scrunching of the nose, she just looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"About two years ago I was found in the New Mexico desert—what I was doing there I have no idea—but I was found and they took me to a hospital. When I woke up I had no idea who I was—it was only a couple of days later that I remembered my name—Loki, but that was it."

Something in her dark brown eyes lighten, as the marginally widen. "Oh wow—that must have been horrible."

He rolls his eyes at the fruitless sympathy; it's not really her, just the issue that arises whenever he tells someone his story, the empathy along with the concord comes gushing off people like droves. As if they understand his pain, as if they care. Their sympathy doesn't make anything better, doesn't make the years he has lost come back.

Shrugging it off he continues, "Anyways, I had to re-name myself self so I picked Sylvain—and _don't ask_—all they had book wise in my room was old Roman mythology. Silvanus was the god of the forest—I'm not a nature guru—but it fit."

Taking another sip, Loki ponders a look at Jane, who in turn looks up at him in pure engrossment. Well that's too bad, he thinks, there's nothing more to tell.

"I think your coffee is done." He says annoyed, motioning to the coffee machine, when she doesn't stop looking.

"Oh!" She flutters around the kitchen, taking a mug out of the cupboard on her tippy toes, pulling back out the cream—in addition with _honey_, and he stares at her back in skepticism.

He wants to ask about her story; more importantly wants to know about the blond beefcake that staying in the same house as him. Loki wants to know things that he is too prideful to ask, and he scoffs at himself for wanting to know in the first place.

"So—what's the deal with you two?" He asks offhandedly, as if he could care less, but the way his heart pounds faster as he awaits an answer tells him all to different.

Jane looks over her shoulder, smiles, and looks back around giving a shrug. "Not much. We just came back from South America—just seeing all what the country had to offer—"

"For five years?"

Loki cannot imagine being away from home for such a long period of time, let alone on a different continent. Yeah, he'd love to go see either Brazil or Argentina, but for five years…

"Yeah, we weren't planning on staying so long, but it's a beautiful continent, with beautiful countries. We just traveled around, stayed village to village, that sort of thing."

"So then you must speak—or be really good at speaking Portuguese and Spanish?"

Jane stills at this.

"Um no actually—not really."

Loki hums in thought, his brain urging him to latch on this topic. Who stays in Portuguese-Spanish speaking countries and can't utter a simple sentence?

"So then blondy must be the speaker then? Do you think he can teach me some things? Your account has made me rethink going to both Brazil and Argentina, it would be pretty helpful." Loki knows for a fact that he doesn't speak it, but it's the first plausible seed of doubt that he can hook on to, he knows there is something _off _with these two.

As if irony has called the oaf down itself, Loki hears big, heavy footsteps make their way down the spiral staircase, rattling its very structure. Loki has to remind himself to breathe, almost dropping his mug as he glances up.

For some reason he is only in a _towel_, a towel that emphasizes the goldness of his skin, that comes only to the upper tops of his knees because he is so _fucking_ tall, and then on his side, a slit that shows a sliver of skin that widens whenever he takes a step because he is so _fucking _huge. He ruffles his wet hair with another towel on top of his head, smiling jovially, electric blue eyes shining as he spots Jane and Loki.

"Jane," he nods politely to her, "Loki," he says with more timbre, and it wipes out whatever intelligent response Loki had on his tongue.

He's staring—he knows he staring—and Thom knows he's staring too, because he's staring right back, eyes roaming non-to-chalant over his form, and Loki wishes that he would have put on a tank top before he came down stairs.

"Stark has the most excellent washroom devices. I never knew that there could be so many ways for water to clean me. All I had to do was stand there amongst the spray!"

Loki moves far back into the counter as Thom bustles into the kitchen, his simple presences—the way he smells, the way he looks, the way stray droplets of water cascade down his back—all overwhelm Loki. It's frightening to him how aware of it all he is. Loki doesn't have a clue if his reaction is based on the fact that blondy looks like a 21st century Adonis, or if he's still scarred from the happenings of last night, maybe it's both, he reckons.

The sound of Jane's amused laugher knocks him out of his daze, and he scolds himself horribly for being such a prepubescent schoolgirl.

"Here you go, I made you some—and there's more too." She hands him a coffee mug that all but shrinks as soon as she passes it into his hands.

"Thank you." He says, and Loki can hear the fondness pour off the two syllables like honey.

Loki's eyes never leave Thom's form as takes a gulp of coffee, watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down attractively, hearing the faint, pleased hum that slithers invitingly on his skin, making him shiver.

Loki resists the urge to jump as Thom's eyes peer over the rim off the coffee cup, locking on to his, smirking slightly as if he _knows_.

"Did you sleep well?" Thom asks curiously, calm easygoingness raking over his whole body, as he copies Loki's lean on the counter, letting it take all his weight.

Loki stubbornly removes his gaze, defiant pout etching across his lips, as he takes a much-delayed sip of coffee, musing over his answer. Clearing his throat and adopting a more open stance, Loki smiles, hoping that no sign of discomfort will be read to easily from this stranger.

"Yes very much." He keeps it short and sweet, to the point. False kindness oozes from Loki's pores, and internally Loki gapes when Thom just laughs, an amused quiet little thing, as if mocking him and it only irritates Loki further.

"That's good—though, I was disappointed that you did not come with us for dinner—it was quite fun. However, I do understand—I just wanted us to get to know each other a little better—to prove that I am not the loon you so think I am."

Loki wants to snort, wants to ask, _how do you know what I think?_—but it seems immature when he relays it in his mind.

"I don't think you're a loon." He lies, but it sounds convincing.

Thom stills with a sigh, putting his coffee cup softly on the counter, lightly shaking his head, sly smile on his lips. "Thank you for saying so—but I can tell your trying to appease me, and as much as that is flattering," his eyes flicker playfully to his, "it's unneeded. I would much rather have you honest with me."

Loki to his utter most horror, feels flustered, feels heat rushing to his cheeks and ears. _How dare he? _

"Trying to _appease_ you—" Loki mutters in disbelief, eyes widening in mortification, and without another word, leaves in a hurry up the stairs, coffee long forgotten.

"Please do not go too far! I hope to take you and Jane out for luncheon!"

Loki snorts in reply back, _like hell._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** First off, I wanted to say sorry for saying that I was gonna update before the 31st and now it's Sept, 2, things just kind of got in the way and I feel really bad about that. Second off, yeah I know this chapter is short too, but I plan to have another one out soon.

* * *

><p>Somewhere out in the vast galaxy lies beyond broken spirits, they do not know how many they've lost—how many of their worlds people are dead, floating around in the dark cosmos that puts their infamous cold on a pathetic pedestal.<p>

Their home has long since been destroyed—the remnants of it nothing but floating dust and dirt—nothing to go back to, nothing to come home to—_all gone_.

The Jotun and his remaining brethren, a measly ten, reside on a world for the time being that is reminiscent of their own. The planet's cold is bearable—not as crisp as they would have liked, but it is comfortable for manageable living, although—it makes the group of them yearn and mourn for home all the stronger.

The sun never rises or sets on this world, the day is night and the night is day, and time passes through their fingers like snowflakes, unable to possibly count and identify them at all.

The Jotun ponders how long?—for how many days?—for how many _years_? How long has he lived like this, scrounging around for food—for shelter? He wonders if it will always be this way, his life, day in and day out, a refugee in a barren land.

It is a desolate, unforgiving, lonely world, and it has beaten the life out of their very souls—_almost_.

"King Laufey—do you truly think he is—?"

The Jotun looks fierce at his fellow brethren, detachment and scorn spreading through his bones at the fallen king's name.

"He is dead," He says harshly, and it is simple as that, the king, the face of their race, killed by a trickster's deceitful promise. Rash and recklessness greed had blinded their king, and despite the many cautious warnings, he had paid for it.

Clenching his hands into fists, the Jotun vows _never_ to make the same idiotic mistake again.

"_Odinson_," He spits venomously,"slayed him—I know he did."

The mere mention of the last name—of their forever thought enemies—stirs unbridled rage throughout the cave, making Jotun eyes appear even more blood thirsty than usual.

"The crowned prince?"

The Jotun viciously shakes his head, snarl forming at his mouth, his fingers twitching resentfully at his sides, begging to strike out at something—preferably an Asgardian.

"The other Asgardian prince, the small, less _golden _one."

Pure, unadulterated hate seethes through the Jotun's being, never has he detested someone as much as he has _The Trickster_.

"He's the one—the one that destroyed _our_ home, and killed _our_ king."

By now, the attention of everyone in the cave belongs to him, they gaze up at him with awaiting eyes— expectant, and he cannot deny his brethren _this_. He cannot deny the possibility of revenge— oh how sweet its nectar could potentially be.

"We shall hunt and kill Loki Odinson," cruel smiles, one by one, gleam in the dark fire light, and the Jotun with wicked glee feeds them more power—more reasons to not give up—more reasons to live, even if that reason is solely based on ruthless reprisal.

"And there will be no place that he will be safe—no place will he be able to run or hide where I cannot find." The timbre, along with the octave of his voice gets richer and stronger, like a wildfire, and the sound echoes off the cave walls.

"We will avenge _Jotunheim_—we will avenge our _brethren_—" The Jotun takes a deep, steady breath as he delivers the last of his words, covered up pain etching away at his heart. "And we will avenge my father and my brother—we will make our people _proud_."

Only after he has finished, the Jotun notices that the rest have kneeled down, and it stuns his breath away. He wants to yell, wants them to get up, and he wants them to realize that their culture— everything they know is gone, but he _cannot_.

All of them mirror the same posture, all on one knee, fist over their hearts, and he freezes, waiting for the inevitable moment.

"Aye, King Byleistr." Closing his eyes, he slowly breathes in, trapped between a plethora of gratitude and grievance.

It reverberates through his skull the whole night, the chants, twisting and turning in his mind—this new power, and he is finally filled with all new purpose—all new _life_.

_I will find you Trickster, and when I do, you will be begging for death after I am through._

* * *

><p>"<em>Shit<em>," Loki sighs, lurching as he empties out his stomach, yet again into the toilet boil.

The dreams—the falling for the past week have gotten worse—along with more detailed. The dreams are not just the feeling of falling anymore—he _feels_ things—emotions in a vast array that range on pure seething hatred—to great unfathomable sadness, it's highly unnerving, moreover tiring.

He's talked to Tony about it, told him about the seizing fear he has whenever he wakes up, unable to move, unable to scream—it feels that _real_, and it haunts him, even after he is alert and up.

Loki's not one to deny that he has a problem—he _knows_ he has a problem, and he's not one to stuff it under the rug like some billionaire he knows. He's just waiting for it to get better, because it always _does_, it always eventually goes away, and this won't be any different, he thinks.

When Loki is assured that he isn't going to puke all over himself, he flushes the toilet, brushes his teeth twice, and steps in the shower, turning the water up so hot it scalds his skin.

He stands under the spray until the water turns cold, spreading eucalyptus lotion onto his skin, and gets dressed in a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts that aren't drenched with his sweat, as he decides to head towards the roof.

Loki doesn't like the roof—usually avoids it with a passion. He often just goes down to the kitchen, brews himself a cup of coffee, and reads till the sun comes up, but for some reason he wants to feel the wind whip pass him, longs to watch the city lights in a more natural setting before twilight dawns.

Loki wraps a blanket around his shoulders, preparing for the cold that surely waits for him, as he opens the steel door, its bolts squeaking with protest.

What he doesn't expect are two silhouettes, outlined by the warm, bright glow of artificial city lights, and Loki startles back, ready to apologize until he sees who it is:

Jane and Thom.

Peering together through a fucking _telescope_.

It's like one of those bad, nauseating chick-flicks him and Tony constantly make fun of, and he wonders for a blithe second if _Crazy For You_ will all of a sudden start playing in the background.

"Oh, it's you." Thom says casually, righting himself from his crouched position that has his pectorals and abdominals flexing oh-so-wonderfully, and Loki all of a sudden has a strong urge to throw him off Stark Tower.

"Do you ever wear a shirt?" Loki murmurs angrily under his breath and Thom must have heard him, because in the next second he smiles a smile that only prompts Loki to ignore his existence even more.

"Your star gazing?" Loki asks with dry, obvious disbelief ringing through his words. "At three-forty in the morning?" His eyebrow arches questionably.

"There's a name for this, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal."

Jane looks flustered as she brushes her hair behind her ears, only to have it be a wasted effort as the wind releases its hold, and Thom just points at the telescope, befuddlement all too easy to read in his eyes.

"Oh no, we're not—_no_." Jane laments, her face beet red, as she puts her hands up in an offensive manner, and poor Thom looks on utterly confused.

Loki tilts his head, because he knows _better_—no person looks at someone as she does him and _doesn't _want more. It's obvious as day, and of course, the moron of her undying affection is too much of an idiot to notice. Pathetic, he faintly thinks.

"Some constellations you can't see until specific times of the day, it's a misconception that they all come out when the sun goes down—we were just looking at the spring diamond—see." Jane enthusiastically points with her index finger up to the sky, and Loki doesn't even bother glancing up.

Rolling on the balls of his feet, and huffing out an annoyed breath, Loki bids them adieu. He's had enough fresh air.

* * *

><p>"I did something wrong." Thor merely states, sulking on the railing that keeps the mortals from falling off of their own monstrous creations. Loki has long since left, and he doesn't quite feel like star gazing anymore.<p>

"No Thor you didn't—he's just—"Jane speaks, voice tiny and soft as she struggles with words to describe Loki without hurting his feelings, and Thor turns his head towards her, chuckling.

"Complicated, oblique, cunning, curt?—yes my brother he is—_difficult_." He murmurs _difficult_ with a tone of anguish, eyes down casting, as he averts his gaze back down to where the life thrives.

"Thor he's just—he's only known you for two weeks—he'll come around." Jane says, coming to stand next to him, rubbing comfort unto his back, and Thor leans into the touch—he _needs_ it.

"I'm not so sure," Thor says with uncertainty. This Loki—while like this brother—is the same—but _so_ different. Loki's made a life here, a life where he does not have a family or a brother, a life where he lives happily with Tony Stark, and Thor fears that he will not be able too—

"No he will. I know he will. Loki's just trying to figure you out right now, he doesn't know what to make of you at this very second. Things will work out." Jane utters with the utmost confidence, and Thor prays to Yggdrasil that she's correct.


	10. Chapter 10

For Loki, life starts to (somewhat) go back to normal after the six weeks of Thom and Jane bumming off Tony's hypothetical couch.

Loki—reluctant to admit—has grown rather accustomed to Jane rattling around in the kitchen, making coffee, cooking bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Even though the majority is for Thom—Jane is courteous enough to make a portion for him. Loki is also fond of their rare, but intriguing conversations. Jane is a very intelligent woman—a woman who holds an impressive amount of knowledge about the sky, and she tells him things—things that make Loki's head reel.

Different dimensions—life on other planets—wormholes—all these phenomenon Jane believes is entirely possible. So, when Loki goes to challenge her theories, tilting a questioning eyebrow, Jane gives him impossible algorisms and crafty equations that Loki knows he could never in a million years memorize or learn. Her passion and utter determination ignites something within him—respect and understanding—and Loki acknowledges that she's not so bad as he once thought. However, he'll never tell her that.

Thom on the other hand…

Loki can't get a steady grip on that _situation_. Thom's here—or he's there—being a shadow that Loki can't quite shake; Or he's half naked—walking around in nothing but a towel or a pair of comfy blue jeans that Loki can't help but to find his eyes lingering on the V of Thom's hips, only to look up a second later and have _those_ eyes on him. Satisfied and amused. It infuriates Loki to no end.

He doesn't know if Thom does it on purpose because he's gorgeous and he can—or if it's something else—if he actually—and Loki stomps on the thought immediately, grinding it to dust.

No way in hell, Loki thinks. Not my type, and the image of a cocky, spikey haired, billionaire pops into his mind's eye. Tony he is comfortable with—Tony he knows—

It's safe, Loki surmises, it would be so simple.

But there is a part of him—the sexually frustrated part—that wants to test those blue azure waters, that wants to feel them brush across his skin, but he knows better.

It wouldn't be safe. It wouldn't be simple.

Loki doesn't know how he would know, but he does. There is this undeniable feeling of trepidation and uneasiness that flash red blinking lights at him in warning. Telling him to stay away, that there is nothing but danger and sorrow there, and Loki would be a fool not to listen.

* * *

><p>It's 8:30 in the morning and the weather man predicts that today is going to be a stunning sunny day with the high of 77 degrees. The sun is just peaking over the horizon, its light teasing in between the cracks of skyscrapers that litter the area, creating a beautiful glow of orange-yellow light that cascades into in kitchen and living room in warm rays.<p>

Loki lounges peacefully on the couch with coffee in hand and the Chicago Tribune in the other. Loki finds that in every section of the newspaper, Tony ironically makes an appearance. It's either his clothes, or his fancy gadgets, or his behavior that is highlighted in bold black ink and it makes Loki lightly chuckle.

"Oh, something must be _really_ funny to make you laugh like that. What is it? I wanna know too." Jane voices over in the kitchen, apron on and spatula in the ready to flip position.

"It's nothing, really." Loki shakes his head whimsically.

Jane slightly frowns, "Okay then, if you say so." She shrugs and turns back around to the bacon and sausage that perfumes the air. Surely, any moment now _he_ should be—

**SUSPISIONS AROUND AN AIR CRAFT THAT LOOKS STRIKINGLY LIKE A…MAN**

Loki eyes are immediately caught captive as he regards the article. A picture on the right hand corner depicts an object that Loki guesses is moving far too fast for cameras to capture. Through the blurs, Loki can spot something that resembles a man—kind of—if he squints. Whatever is it—he's never seen anything like it before.

Loki reads down below:

BY CHRISTINE EVERHART

PUBLISHED: MAY 26, 2012

_Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a man? _

_Only some would apparently know, as bystanders reported that something in resemblance to a man has been seen in specific locations such as New York, California, Morocco—and even in our own back yard Chicago!..._

Huh? Loki thinks, turning his head and looking out the window for good measure. What he does not expect to see—or even feel—is Thom leaning over his shoulder, appearing to be enthusiastically reading the same article.

It takes all of Loki's will power not to jump or slam his elbow into Thom's nose, as his body's reflexes so desperately want him to. Instead, Loki's mouth thins and he breathes in deeply through his nose.

"Interesting—a flying man." Thom says dazedly, his voice rough from sleep and Loki's limbs seize up as he watches from the corner of his eye how good Thom looks debauched, hair tousled this way and that.

Loki can almost feel where Thom's coarse stubble lies close to his cheek, teasing the possibility of touching, but instead feels the radiating warmth that flows out of Thom's body unto his. It's hot—it's too hot—

Loki stiffly clears his throat and prepares to move into a safe surrounding area where there is less golden skin, warm body heat, and a natural nice smelling aroma that has nothing to do with breakfast meats.

Thom glances sideways at him, as if he just noticed Loki's presences—that he'd been hovering—and asks Loki in a way too serious manner—in a way too _intimate_ sounding manner, "So what do you believe Loki?"

Loki gulps, his name should not sound that— "I don't—I don't believe in things like that." He internally curses himself for sounding so…_small_.

Thom nods slowly—understandingly, as if taking important information and storing it in his brain for later use. This reaction confuses Loki more—which in response makes him only testier and irritated.

"Do you?" Loki asks defensively, narrowing his eyes, the usual sting back in his voice.

Thom just smiles and says, "I believe things are much more complicated than we know them to be."

* * *

><p>Loki's not quite sure who to blame for the fact that Tony's penthouse has become sort of a community rec area that anyone is welcome to come and go as they please.<p>

He comes back from a mid-morning run, sweat dripping down the sides of his face and his legs feeling numbingly good, to see Steve Rogers and Clint Barton—along with another woman who has wavy fiery red hair and pouty lips to match.

Loki takes a big gulp of air, smoothing damp ends of hair away from his forehead as he moves slowly into the living room.

By now, everyone knows that he has arrived. The previous atmosphere— that seemed light and jubilant—turns tense and frigid and the red-haired woman focuses her attention on him. Loki looks right back into those emerald eyes that narrow and pierce right into him—rivaling his own—and Loki communicates his own welcome.

"Loki—your back! Have a good run sweetums?" Tony says, stopping whatever staring contest he and the red head had been competing in.

Loki shrugs dismissively, walking undaunted into the kitchen, pulling out a water bottle from the fridge.

"S'okay," He says around the plastic, giving a soft appreciative groan at the cool water that descends down his throat. His had gone hot about 15 minutes into the run.

"So—is this another work related visit Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barton?" Loki says gingerly, inclining his head towards the red head he asks, "And you would be—?"

"Natasha—Natasha Romanoff." She reveals, and Loki thinks the name highly suits her. Natasha nods her head in a gesture that Loki believes is a non-physical hand shake and he extends the same act of humility towards her as well.

"Please call me Steve—and no we aren't here on the bosses orders—apparently," Steve breaks off, an emotion crosses over his face that Loki can't quite distinguish. "My _brother _has decided to um—drop by, and I uh—I'm here to see him."

"Oh yes, your _brother—_ I'm starting to see the resemblance." Loki says dryly.

"It's been awhile." Steve sighs wringing his hands together, and Loki amusingly draws up a curious eyebrow.

"You sound thrilled."

"Speaking of goldy-locks," Tony announces, clasping a hard hand on Steve's back that makes him slightly wince, "Where is he?"

_Oh._

"He said something about going to the store to buy pop tarts…over two hours ago."

Quietness fills the room that speaks absolute dread.

"You just let him go." Clint cynically accuses, finally looking in Loki's general direction and Loki just glares at the man who reminds him of a grumpy old cat.

"He's a big boy Mr. Barton—I think if he can travel around South America for five years just fine, he can get around downtown Chicago to buy some fucking pop tarts fantastically. Besides, he has Jane with him. They never seem to go _anywhere_ without one another." Loki misses or chooses to ignore how his voice takes on a slight bitter edge as he puts his water bottle back into the fridge.

"Well I'm off." Loki doesn't bother to look back or wait for a reply as he hastily jogs up the stairs. He doesn't much care for family reunions.

* * *

><p>"<em>Sweetums<em>? Anyone else find it alarming that Tony's shacking up with a semi-deranged alien who leveled a small town in New Mexico or is it just me?"

"_Shacking up_, really Clint? Could you be anymore lame?"

"Technically he's not an alien—he's a god. That's what Fury says at least for the both of them…"

"Oh, fucking fantastic."

"Do you really think we should be talking about this with _him_ still being here? Loki could be listening."

"Natasha—honey— get your cob webs out of a bunch. He's not listening in. Loki thinks that were talking about the least interesting things in the world right now: sea floor spreading, Michael Cera, My Dog Skip, F.R.I.E.N.D.S—see?—all boring."

"Don't say I didn't warn you Stark if you wake up and he's standing over your body with a knife in his hand. I wouldn't blame him."

"Ouch, duly noted."

"By the way—when do you guys think it would be a good time to go out and look for my _brother_."

"Steve you _gotta_ fix that—_My brother_—you sound like you're trying to highlight the lie. Really?—the super soldier's never fabricated a simple story before?"

"Simple story? Tony this isn't me telling my mom that I didn't steal any of the cookies from the cookie jar! I am supposed to pretend—for whoever knows how long—that some guy I've just met is my brother and that I have known him my entire life. You just don't lie these things up."

"Sure you can!"

"I'd give him ten more minutes."

* * *

><p>When Thor finally arrives—hands filled with bags of every kind of flavored pop tart known to man—the team does not quite know what to make of the Thunderer. What does one assume of a so-called God? Do they have to bow? Do they have to say something like 'your holiness' every time they address Thor?<p>

Clint coughs, clearing his throat, muttering _damn_ under his breath. The guy was bigger than he last remembered. Steve's eyes widen to saucers, whole body tensing, as his spine straightens out before he lifts his weight off the couch. This prompts the rest of them to rise as well.

Thor catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, gazing over in the living room with curious contemplation. Understanding immediately flickers in those azure eyes, and he stoically sets the bags of pop tarts lightly on the black granite counters.

"Ah, you must be the _Avengers_," The way Thor pronounces the word makes Tony swell up in pride, puffing out his chest, widening the stance of his legs—regular typical male testosterone. Natasha apparently notices and gives him a disbelieving once over.

"I have to say, I have been very eager since my arrival to meet the fair and valiant warriors of Midgard. Stark has already told me a lot about you all—about the powers and talents you process—all very rare and amazing for mortals."

Natasha tilts her head in question at this.

"Oh—I do not mean to offend, in my realm—what is known of Midgard is that the mortals are cut off from the knowledge and power of Yggdrasil. Your people do not know the talents of magic—but have done a satisfactory job of replacing it with your science—at least that what I think it is called…" Thor tappers off for a moment, charmingly musing in his own mind, and Tony chuckles, "Big guy don't worry about it, you're right."

"Oh good," And Thor smiles a cajoling smile that Tony can tell immediately wins the whole team over. Suddenly, everybody's shoulders seem to sag and breath that had unknowingly been held release in a chorus of sighs.

"Forgive me for being rude—my name is Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard along with fellow warrior. It is an honor to finally meet you all, protectors of Midgard." Thor crosses an arm over his chest, bowing in a sign of respect that is familiar to his homeland, but foreign to theirs, and they all look at one another confused at what to do, until Steve decides to bow and of course, as always, they all follow lead.

"I like this guy." Clint announces, really to no one, Tony just speculates he likes to hear himself think. In the background, he can hear Thor laughing.

"It's an honor to meet you too Thor," Steve responds, moving across the living room to extend his hand. "We have heard a lot about you too, from Norse Mythology at least—I thought it was all a sham until about two months ago—turns out your actually real."

Thor takes his hand graciously, giving it a two firm shakes that Steve obviously finds impressive. "I'm Steve Rogers—and apparently your younger brother for however long you plan to stay here on Earth."

"Ah yes, the captain. I am truly sorry for whatever trouble this arrangement must cause you."

Steve shakes his head, mouth forming a stubborn line, "No it's fine. You're in a tricky situation, I can't imagine what it must feel like to have your _real_ younger brother not know who you are—not know _anything_—" As if sensing the pain and duress the topic brings, Steve drops the subject. "We will work something out." Steve says with a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Look at that! You're already starting to look like bros."

"Shut it Tony."

He obeys with a simple amused nod.

"Well I can't say it's not weird," Clint conveys, coolly walking up to the god that towers over him. "But I can't say it's not cool." He jokes and sticks out his hand. "Clint Barton—nice to meet you Thor."

"The highly skilled archer."

"Hello Thor, I'm Natasha Romanoff." Instead of shaking her hand, Thor brings it to his lips and lightly kisses the soft skin, earning a sight gasp from the archer.

"Milady, you would have to be the skilled assassin."

Natasha nods—face giving nothing away—but her green eyes shine mirthful.

Tony then suddenly remembers Bruce. "Oh yeah—sorry big guy, Bruce couldn't make it. He's dealing with some _things_ right now. He didn't think it would've been the best time—nothing personal."

"Oh, of course."

Tony looks on fondly as they continue to talk, putting his hands in his pockets, thinking how much worse the meeting could have gone, but he's pleased—content.

He just wonders—being the pessimist he is—how long before the charade crumbles? How long before Loki picks up weird vibes and realizes they are not what they seem? How long will it be until he regains his memories—possibly along with his resentment and hate? How long until then, Tony solemnly thinks.

* * *

><p>AN: So it has been awhile readers! So sorry for the delay, so much has happened over the past couple of weeks so I hope you understand. I also hope you like this chapter—I'm trying to have some good development soo yeah…**Please review**—means the world to me—thank you.


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